


Stories and Insights

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [14]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Renji off in Hueco Mundo, Byakuya searches out people who might tell stories about Renji's past.  Byakuya gets some interesting tidbits as well as a few insights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories and Insights

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... not sure I could have made that sound more dull, if I tried. But, hey, when Kenpachi shows up things get hopping!
> 
> Thanks as always to Josey....

Most of Seichi’s stories involved some kind of hair-brained scheme to get food or water that, when reckless bravado was required to make it work, Renji would step in to the role and somehow not die or get arrested, though only just barely. Seichi found such tales endlessly amusing. Byakuya, meanwhile, found them deeply nerve-wracking, despite full-knowledge that Renji did not, in point of fact, ever lose a limb, his life, or spend the rest of his days in rotting in prison.

Eishirō brought a large tray of uirō in the full array of flavors: strawberry, yuzu, chestnut, green tea, and, speaking of Renji, red bean paste. The tea was refreshed and, before Eishirō left, Byakuya made sure to order a second plate, knowing this first would be devoured in no time.

Seichi didn’t even hesitate to help himself. Byakuya got the sense that if he were to reach for something at the same time, Seichi would knock his hand away. So he waited until Seichi filled his plate.

It was beyond rude to make a Kuchiki go second, but where would Seichi have learned any better? Seichi had, from the sounds of things, gone from Inuzuri to prison. Not exactly an upward social climb.

Besides, Byakuya wouldn’t have to endure much more. He’d grown tired of all this and would make his excuses soon. Surprisingly, Seichi was a fairly entertaining storyteller, with decent comedic timing, but sometimes he slid so deeply into slang and cant that Byakuya lost all sense of the action. Plus, the tales weren’t terribly illuminating. Renji’s life was much as Byakuya had expected: a brutal and endless struggle. 

But, before Byakuya could make polite noises, Seichi glanced up from the dessert tray and said, “Sweets, huh? You’re pulling out the big guns. I guess that means it’s time for me to spill about Renji’s love life, eh?”

Byakuya barely suppressed a gasp. “But, you were so young. Surely, there’s nothing to tell.”

Seichi gave Byakuya a funny look. He arched an eyebrow, and then asked, “You saying you nobles don’t live as long as us street rats? Because, Renji’s a bit older than he looks, you know.”

Idiot. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“Well, he ain’t no monk,” Seichi said. “You think he spent all them years without a single fuck?”

The crease between Byakuya’s brows grew deeper. Truthfully, Byakuya had not considered the idea that Renji would have time for much of a sex life, given the type of life he was leading. Despite what Seichi said, they were little more than children, and Byakuya would have thought the daily grind of trying to find food and shelter would have left Renji too exhausted for much else. 

“Very well,” Byakuya said, pouring himself another cup of tea and taking a chestnut flavored uirō. “Be aware that a list of conquests will be meaningless to me. I’m hardly likely to know any of these people, if any of them are even still alive.” Thinking back to his interaction with Lieutenant Hisagi, Byakuya added, “I would be far more interested if Renji has a specific type. If you have any kind of information about what sort of relationship he tended to have with his lovers, that would be of interest as well.” 

Seichi listened to this, nodding. But instead of starting in on Byakuya’s request, Seichi said, “You’re a hard one to read, Kuchiki. Sometimes I’m pretty sure you really are just into Renji and then you say calculated shit like this and I think, nah, he’s just keeping Renji as a pet.”

Tempted as Byakuya was, he didn’t say ‘well, he does look good in a collar,’ and instead just lifted a shoulder. “Your brother would fight any man who tried to master him.”

“I hear he fought you pretty hard.”

“He did,” Byakuya agreed, not knowing what else to say beyond acknowledging the truth.

Seichi squinted at Byakuya as if hoping to read something in his face, but since Byakuya kept his expression as impassive as ever, Seichi eventually gave up with a shake of his head. “See, like right now? I have no idea how to take that. Like, maybe you’re saying, yeah, he is your pet, or maybe you’re saying, ‘yeah, we fought, so what?’ I got no clue. You remind me of this good neighbor I dealt with right when I got out this last time. He was tricky like you, impossible to figure out. Only instead of a hard empty mask, like yours, his was always a cold smile.” Seichi made a show of a shuddering shiver. “Yeah, he was always smiling that creepy-ass smile.”

Byakuya nearly snorted his tea. “Always?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if you told that prick his favorite puppy got kicked to death, he’d say some strange-ass thing and keep on smiling.”

That sounded remarkably like Gin. Dear god, could there be more than one of them? “Did he have silver hair, perchance?”

“Yeah, strange that. It was his name, too. Silver.”

“Gin,” Byakuya repeated. “You say he aided you?”

“Kinda,” Seichi said, suddenly looking a little nervous, like he wasn’t sure he should say anything more. “Maybe funded a project or two.”

“A project? Like the raid on my patrol?”

“No,” Seichi said, but he no longer met Byakuya’s eye. “More like he was a good neighbor. Helped me out of a little financial situation.”

“You’re saying Gin had nothing to do with the raid,” Byakuya said, pinning Seichi under his gaze. 

“I told them ninja thugs everything about the raid.”

“I understand you told them nothing.”

“Well, right,” Seichi said, looking very shifty. He kept glancing around as if trying to figure out which panel slid aside for the door. “Because I don’t know nothing.”

No doubt Seichi’s grammatical error spoke volumes. However, Byakuya was no skilled interrogator. If the Second Division’s best couldn’t get Seichi to give up his secrets, then Byakuya doubted there was much he could do. Besides, it was far more interesting to hear that Gin Ichimaru had been masquerading as a yakuza boss who was, if Seichi were to be believed, apparently doling out funds to various down-and-out types. 

To what end, Byakuya wondered. Though it was possible that Gin was simply handing out money indiscriminately with the idea that any funded Rukongai troublemaker would destabilize the districts. Gin must have felt he hit the jackpot when he heard Seichi’s surname.

Now it seemed very obvious that Aizen and his minions were involved in many things out in the Rukongai, though the mystery of the raid and the Shiba-imposter remained. Though he expected no response, Byakuya decided to ask, “Did you hear rumors about Kaien Shiba returning to the Rukongai to lead a revolution?”

Seichi’s face told Byakuya a lot. At the first mention Seichi noticeably paled, his eyes wide and shocked, but in a heartbeat, his expression hardened and his fists curled into the Kuchiki retainer’s yukata he wore. “Shiba are good people,” was all he said.

Byakuya said nothing to that. How could he? They were outlaws and stripped of their rank. Like so many of the True First, including the Shihōin. 

And all so recently. 

If Byakuya wasn’t careful, he’d see Aizen’s hand in every tragedy, every misfortune. Instead, he said, “If you followed Kaien Shiba, you were led by an imposter or an illusion.”

To Byakuya’s surprise, Seichi shrugged. “Don’t care. There were rumors about that, too, that Shiba was dead and this guy came from Hell or somewhere like that. Who cares? I’d have signed up with an dancing piece of shit if it said the things that guy did.” Seichi glanced up at that and met Byakuya’s eyes, “Er, not that I was following anyone.”

“Of course not,” Byakuya replied, though it was astoundingly obvious that Seichi had, in fact, signed up to follow the Shiba imposter. 

And the Second couldn’t get a word out of this man? Perhaps Byakuya should tell Yoruichi that her protégée needed to try more peaceable methods in addition to her usual information extraction. 

“So you want to hear about Renji’s lovers or not?” Seichi said, clearly trying to change the subject. 

Byakuya raised a hand, indicating that Seichi should start if he wished.

“Right, well, you wanted to know if he had a type? Back when I knew him, I’d’ve said ‘breathing.’”

A stab of something—disgust?—momentarily pierced Byakuya’s stomach before he saw the wolfish smile on Seichi’s face. Ah, Seichi was purposely goading him. Well, two could play this game. “Ah, excellent,” Byakuya said. “That will make choosing a third for our games far easier.”

Seichi started. Unconsciously, he lifted three fingers and mouthed, ‘Three?’

Byakuya continued, “Do gender and looks really make no difference?”

“I…” Seichi looked genuinely chagrined to be caught out. With a dip of his head, he finally admitted, “I actually have no idea. He kept that stuff to himself.” But, then Seichi seemed to rally, his brows scrunching into a scowling frown, as he spat out: “But I know for a fact Renji hated the alley. He only went there when we were well and truly desperate. So I’m really fucking surprised he goes on his knees for you.”

At the word ‘alley,’ Byakuya’s heart almost stopped. But, then he realized Seichi meant some Inuzuri place. Byakuya remembered Renji saying something about selling himself in a dark back way like that. It was, Byakuya suddenly recalled, Renji’s primary objection to hiring out a tea boy for their threesome. 

“And yet he does,” Byakuya said coolly. “What do you make of that, then? Do you have so little respect for your brother that you think he would bend to me unwillingly?”

Seichi looked at his food like it suddenly made him ill. Then, he jumped to his feet. “I bet you’ve never had to, so you don’t know what it’s like, but, yeah, of course I do! You people have everything. All the power, everything! Sometimes the choice is bending so you don’t break. I’ve seen Renji crawl and grovel so the rest of us wouldn’t have to die! You can’t know what that’s like, to live with that kind of hurt and shame! Of course he’d do it! He’d do anything to survive! We all would!”

Byakuya had to work very hard say ‘keep your voice down’ and not to use his reiatsu to force Seichi to sit. After all, that would only prove Seichi’s point. And… strangely, Byakuya was beginning to understand something about Renji, finally. 

Perhaps, when you have nothing, you’re not even always allowed honor or pride. 

This was why Renji often reacted so badly at being held down… if it was a common, unwanted experience among the lower class to be forced to relinquish something as precious to the soul as pride.

This was why Byakuya needed to ask permission.

Always.

Byakuya said quietly, “Thank you for your insight. You’ve explained something very important.”

Seichi blinked, his anger slumping out of him. “Huh? Oh. Um, you’re welcome?”

Would it kill Seichi to add a ‘sir’ or ‘m’lord’? Byakuya started to open his mouth to demand… but stopped himself. 

Perhaps it would kill him a little. 

“I need to return to my work at the Division,” Byakuya said. His mind still puzzling through this new insight, he stood up. “You’ll excuse me.”

As he swept past Seichi on the way out, Byakuya noticed that Seichi bowed to him, just a little.

#

The division was quieter during the night shift. Byakuya only had to check in at the lieutenant’s headquarters a couple of times. The rest of the evening he spent in his office, catching up on paperwork.

At least, ostensibly. 

This was the second time that Byakuya had caught himself staring out the window at the moon. The ink on his brush was dry from having hovered over the document far too long, while his thoughts had drifted to a certain tattooed redhead. 

Very specifically, Byakuya had been imagining Renji’s powerful arms and those rare moments when Byakuya had allowed himself to be held by them. 

Byakuya washed the crusted ink from his brush and trimmed the bristles. Thinking back to Seichi’s outburst, Byakuya wondered what exactly had happened to make Renji ‘crawl and grovel’ and for whom? Byakuya found himself wanting to hunt down whoever had done such a thing and eviscerate them. 

Though, perhaps, Renji already had.

Somehow Byakuya doubted it. Perhaps while he was in the Eleventh, Renji might have taken the time to hunt down old enemies. Yet, despite the ways in which his past seemed to define him, Renji didn’t seem to hold lifelong grudges. Or, if he did, Renji had never shown that side of himself to Byakuya. 

If he’d never had revenge, how did he cope? Perhaps it was enough to know he’d escaped that world? Was it all Renji truly needed to know that he now easily surpassed any penny-ante thug from Inuzuri, with Zabimaru at his side?

Byakuya knew sometimes Renji’s past surfaced in his dreams. There had been a number of times he’d woken up shouting or punching the air. Despite all those few times--one of which was just after the alley, Byakuya recalled--it must not trouble him constantly, since one could normally hardly call Renji a restless sleeper. Nine times out of ten, he was like a gigantic, immovable object with a penchant for snoring and bed-hogging.

A smile curled Byakuya’s lips at the thought. Amazing to think that Byakuya would actually miss having that hot, sprawling baboon in his bed.

Still, it was a wonder that Renji slept so well most nights. How was it that he’d made peace with his past?

There was so much about Renji that Byakuya didn’t know. 

Byakuya was tempted to ask Kenpachi, captain to captain. They’d made a weird sort of peace while waiting together in the Precipice World. Byakuya snorted. More accurately, they’d managed not to actively devolve into a fight for several long moments, which felt rather like a major peace accord.

If only the man weren’t so odious. It would be interesting to hear what Kenpachi had to say. Though probably Kenpachi didn’t pay that much attention. Why would he have? Renji was only his Sixth Seat. Byakuya had a hard time imagining Renji not standing out in a crowd, but the whole of the Eleventh was like some kind of murderous circus, so perhaps he didn’t.

But there was one person at the Eleventh Byakuya could ask….

He summoned a Hell Butterfly and invited Yachiru to tea tomorrow afternoon.

 

#

The rest of the night shift passed without much incident. Word had spread that the captain was taking over the lieutenant’s duties. So, even though the Fourth Seat said that nighttime could be when roughhousing and the occasional drunken disorderly calls came in, if anything of that sort happened, it happened far outside the Division walls. No one dared stumble in after curfew, sober or otherwise.

Smart.

Because, with Renji gone, Byakuya would have to play the part they all expected of him. The punishments would have to be as severe as allowed by law. No exceptions. And, despite the deep sense that it would serve them right for dishonoring his name, Byakuya didn’t really feel up to sending someone to the guardhouse tonight. 

He was just as happy to make it through the shift, keeping order with just a severe glare and a singular, “What you think my decision would be, if that proved to be the case?”

Finally, Byakuya collapsed into bed, too tired to even miss Renji.

#

He did not expect to be awakened by a Yachiru bouncing on his bed. “Yay! You’re awake,” she squealed as he shot upright, reaching for Senbonzakura. “I couldn’t wait for tea! Let’s play now!”

“How did you even…?” Byakuya stopped mid-sentence. He didn’t really want to know how Yachiru always found a way to slip past all the servants and bodyguards. Bad enough that she seemed to have uncovered most of the estate’s secret passageways. “Please tell me that the Kenpachi is not with you.”

“Ken-chan is still sleeping, silly!”

Thank fate. Byakuya rubbed his face as Yachiru skipped and bounced around him, singing some childish song at the top of her lungs. “You know where I keep my toys. Why don’t you go to the library and find something you like? I’ll have Eishirō bring us breakfast there.”

“Yay!” With that she bounded off. 

Byakuya let himself fall back into the bed. He hadn’t intended to wake up this early. The night shift had ended near dawn. From the quality of light, Byakuya guessed it could be no more than seven or eight now. That meant he’d only managed a few hours of sleep. 

There was nothing for it now. Yachiru would run rampant through the estate if he didn’t attend to her. With a sigh, Byakuya pulled himself out from under the warmth of the covers and rang for Eishirō.

#

Byakuya found Yachiru hiding, as he used to, under the kotatsu. She was small enough that she was completely underneath. He only found her because she was still singing that incessant song. She had pulled out a deck of the hanafuda and laid them out, admiring the hand-painted images. 

Seeing them, Byakuya had to stifle a ‘Don’t Touch!’ and the urge to snatch them away. These were the cards he’d so often played with Hisana. 

Yet, he’d told Yachiru to chose any game. Besides, what were they doing in their lacquer box, outside of gathering dust? It was better that someone enjoyed them. He settled himself under the comforter and warmed his toes, reaching out with one foot to give Yachiru a playful nudge. She giggled. So, he did it again. She squealed with delight, and then she attacked the bottom of his feet, tickling him. 

When he let out a tiny snort of a laugh, Yachiru let out a delighted “aha!” and it quickly became a game of ‘try to get Byakuya to lose his composure.’

But, Byakuya had far too much practice at this particular sport to lose easily. In fact, when Eishirō came with the tea, Byakuya was working on the aikido Ukitake had taught him, redirecting all of Yachiru’s pounce-attacks. A few books had spilled from the shelves and the playing cards and quilt were all askew.

“Come, let’s pick this up quickly for Eishirō,” Byakuya said. 

Byakuya often expected Yachiru to resist such commands, being the wild child of the Eleventh, but she never did. She attacked cleaning with the same intense happiness that she did everything. In less than a minute everything was straightened and Eishirō could deposit the breakfast tray on top of the kotatsu.

The chef had prepared tamagoyaki that smelled of shrimp and winter yams. Along with those were the usual rice, some cucumber pickles, and a soup that was also flavored with shrimp. Everything smelled so good Byakuya said a very quick grace over the meal and they dug in.

After enough tea had been consumed that Byakuya felt he could properly form coherent sentences, he asked, “What did you think of Renji when he was at the Eleventh?”

“Renji?” Yachiru shoved a few more pickles in her mouth and scrunched up her face, like she was thinking very hard. Then she lifted a finger and very solemnly announced: “His shoulders are nice and high, but that bushy hair is too hard to see through!”

“Ah, yes,” Byakuya said, wondering what had possessed him to think that talking to Yachiru was going to net him anything useful. “Renji’s hair is very thick.”

“It looks better long than short, though.”

“Oh? I hadn’t known Renji ever wore it short.”

“Once. The barracks got lice. Everybody shaved their heads. We all looked like Cueball! It was fun! It feels so neat growing back. Pokey! Plus, we all matched! Except Yumi. He cried and cried and used horrible smelling stuff on his hair.”

Yes, Byakuya imagined that Ayasegawa must have been very distraught. No doubt, he made sure no such thing ever happened again, as well. As he nibbled at another roll of the egg-shrimp-yam concoction, Byakuya speculated, “Renji’s facial tattoos must have been very… intense without any hair.”

“Ren looked like a pirate,” Yachiru nodded. “He got a fancier scarf and wore it wrapped around his head.” She mimed tying something with a knot at the back. “I told him he should get an ear pierced and wear big gold hoops, but he never did.” She pouted a little at the memory. “I should have made it an order.”

“You shouldn’t issue frivolous orders,” Byakuya said, putting another couple of the tamagoyaki on her plate. “Otherwise, your soldiers won’t trust you in the heat of battle.”

“You sound like Kenny.”

“Gods forbid.” Though at her look, Byakuya added, “Even so, it’s good advice. If the Kenpachi knows anything, it’s fighters and fighting.”

“Huh. That almost sounds like an actual compliment, Kuchiki.”   
A headache instantly bloomed in the space between Byakuya’s eyebrows at the sound of that gruff voice coming from the other side of the shoji screens, in the garden. “There had better be no holes in the outer walls, Kenpachi, or I will see that you pay to repair them.”

A little snort accompanied the screen being shoved aside. The brutish shadow of Kenpachi Zaraki with this bell-topped demon-spiked hair stretched across their breakfast table. “I should’ve broke some walls. It would’ve been more fun. It’s boring the way your people always let me in without a fight. I think they’re scared of me.”

More likely, they remembered ancient alliances. But, Byakuya was not going to tell Kenpachi that. 

Kenpachi seated himself at their table as though he’d been invited. He tucked himself under the comforter and stretched his feet out, knocking Byakuya’s aside. Pulling a serving dish in front of himself, he started filling it up. “You going to stay here all day, Yachiru?” Kenpachi asked. “Only I was thinking of going into the Rukongai. I need something to fight.”

“Sounds fun! I’ll go with you!”

“You ain’t learning reading or anything, then?” Kenpachi glanced at Byakuya, who shook his head slightly in answer to the question. “How about you, princess? I heard you broke a teashop. Want to go fight with us?”

Byakuya started to ask a haughty, ‘what business would I have in the Rukongai?’ when it occurred to him, that, in point of fact, he had. So, instead, he took a final sip of his tea and said, “Yes. Yes, I think I will.”


End file.
